


You May Think You See Who I Really Am

by tacomuerte



Series: Femslash February 2017 - Chlonette Edition [6]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Discovering Attraction, F/F, Femslash February 2017, Fluff, Hairstyles!, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9633191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacomuerte/pseuds/tacomuerte
Summary: After losing a bet, Marinette is forced to give Chloé complete control of her hairstyle for six months. The results surprise both of them.* * *Title from "Reflection" on theMulansoundtrack.Femslash February 2017 Day 6: New Haircut





	

“You just had to make that bet, didn’t you?” Alya said, doing her best to hide her obvious amusement at her friend’s predicament.

“Shut up, Alya,” Marinette grumbled. “She cheated.”

“No, she didn’t. She won fairly—maybe you could argue not ethically—but you lost and you know it. That’s why as much as you’re complaining, you’re about to go in there,” Alya said as she pointed at the very stylish and expensive salon where they stood preparing to enter. “No matter how much you don’t want to.”

Marinette’s only response was to close her eyes, groan, and shift from foot to foot.

“All you had to do,” Alya continued, ignoring what Marinette realized was frankly petulant behavior. She had just lost a bet to Chloé Bourgeois, so she figured she was entitled to a bit of petulance. “And I have no idea how this didn’t occur to you before you agreed—was to say that she couldn’t use her own money to win the bake sale.”

“I just…” Marinette grit her teeth. “I just was so sure that our pastries would outsell the ones she brought. My parents are **great** bakers, and I was sure we would win.”

“Does it help to know we would have if Chloé hadn’t bought out two entire stores?” Alya asked, patting her shoulder reassuringly.

“No,” Marinette admitted. “Not when I think about the terms of the bet.”

Said terms were simple. How they had arrived at those simple terms was still a tangled knot in Marinette’s mind, but that was often the case when she went down the rabbit hole of arguing with Chloé. Regardless, the terms were clear. 

The winner got to determine the loser’s hairstyle for six months.

Marinette felt this was the worst possible thing in the history of mankind… barring death, dismemberment, illness… okay, maybe it wasn’t the worst thing, but Marinette was pretty certain she was going to end the day with a shaved head. That had to count for something.

Right on cue, there was a snooty laugh behind them. Marinette didn’t even bother turning around. She just stared at the doorway leading to her dark fate.

Chloé was chattering on about her victory, and Alya was snarking back. Marinette appreciated her friend’s support, but she wasn’t about to renege.

“Can we just get this over with?” she asked, impatiently.

Chloé looked sour as she walked out in front of Marinette to stand with arms crossed. “You ruin **everything** , you know that? Can’t you just let me enjoy my victory for once?”

Marinette, who had turned her head so as to avoid looking at Chloé, who had put herself in between her and the building, cut her eyes towards Chloé by way of answering. She was annoyed that the blonde looked fabulous in a white sundress while Marinette had settled for a plain shirt and slacks, assuming that Chloé was going to come out of the salon looking spectacular while Marinette would end up looking awful. What was the point of dressing up just to get embarrassed?

“No,” Chloé snarled. “Of course you can’t.” She strode towards the entrance saying, “Fine. Have it your way.”

“You don’t have to come with us, Chloé,” Marinette said. She knew before Chloé even had time to respond that there was no way that Chloé was going to miss this.

“Oh, but Marinette,” the blonde turned and said, sweetly clasping her hands under her chin. “I double-booked us! Think of it as some well-earned, much-needed bonding time for just us girls!”

“Wow,” Alya responded. “I know you’re evil, Chloé, but that’s actually impressive levels of evil.”

“I do try,” Chloé grinned.

Marinette’s shoulders slumped as she walked wordlessly past Chloé into the salon.

“Are you staying, Alya?” Chloé asked, cordially. “It’s going to be several hours, but I can ask the staff to find you some reading material.”

Chloé actually being polite to Alya grated on Marinette’s nerves. Why did Marinette still deserve a special place of torture in Chloé’s mind when over the past year or so she had toned down her worst excesses against everyone else?

Alya patted her bag and said, “I’ve got my tablet and a Ladyblog to update. I’ll be fine.”

Marinette felt reassured that her friend wasn’t abandoning her.

“Suit yourself,” Chloé said. The blonde was infuriating in her cheerfulness.

“No worries,” Alya assured the blonde. “Queen Bee saved a bus full of tourists from crashing off a bridge this morning. The write-up is going to take me a while. Gotta sort through the witness interviews.”

“If you change your mind, let the staff know,” Chloé said, excitement in her voice. “I can’t wait to read the update, though!”

Marinette felt that she would not have even been close to this obnoxious if she had won the bet. Well… probably not. It wasn’t any comfort anyway thinking she would have been much nicer if the tables were turned.

The salon was obscenely posh. Inside, Alya found a seat and pulled out her tablet as an attendant came up to see what snacks she could get her. The amateur blogger excitedly ordered some sort of rejuvenating water drink and some chocolates from the most exclusive chocolatier in Paris that were specially reserved for guests here.

Marinette was baffled that a place like this even existed. It was just too much. She was even more baffled that Chloé treated this like it was what one should expect at a bare minimum.

The blonde waved away the attendant, and Marinette felt too sick to her stomach to even consider snacks due to her quickly approaching humiliation.

A high, male voice with a distinct Italian accent called out, “Chloé, darling, it’s so good to see you!”

Marinette turned to find a very attractive man approaching. He looked like he could be Adrien’s older brother or perhaps cousin. Instinctively, she felt comforted by his wide, genuine grin, but she couldn’t forget why she was here and what she was about to lose.

Chloé pranced up to the man, giggling. “Fabio!” she shouted. “So lovely to see you! How are Claudia and the baby?”

They did that fake sort of cheek kiss that rich people always seemed to do where they kissed the air a half-meter from each other's faces then the man answered with a grin, “They are exceptional as always. The little one is learning to walk!”

“Oh, it feels like it was last week that you brought her home! You must show me pictures!” the blonde exclaimed, then Chloé turned to Marinette.

“And this,” she said, all smiles and laughter and lightness as she waved her hand up and down in Marinette’s direction. “This is the special project I told you about!”

Fabio’s hands went to his cheeks and Marinette could have sworn his eyes sparkled. “I see, my dear Chloé! She is very special indeed!”

Chloé squealed, and Marinette guessed that was some sort of agreement, although she thought Chloé’s definition of “very special” must be different than his or anyone else’s.

“Yes, and you got my instructions for her?” she asked.

Fabio’s return smile was dazzling. “Of course!” He motioned to an attendant saying, “Take Miss Bourgeois to her room. I’ll take this beautiful flower to her room and get started.”

Before she could even think, she had been ushered into a room and gently nudged into a seat. Fabio excused himself for a moment and Marinette looked around the room, which was larger than her bedroom. There was a waterfall of all things in the corner… although the trickling sound of the water was soothing, she had to admit. Everything in here was bright and airy and smelled like a visit to the countryside. As for the business side of things, there was the chair she was seated in, a sink for washing hair, a small stand with various scissors and other care implements, and a second small stand with mani-pedi tools. The only odd thing was there weren’t any mirrors, but she figured Fabio simply used hand mirrors when showing the client the results.

If she wasn’t here because she had lost a stupid bet, Marinette would be over the moon with excitement at the opportunity for this kind of pampering.

Fabio bustled back in, still all smiles. He stood behind her, tilting her head slightly one way and then the other. He finished and put his hands on Marinette’s shoulders and held very still.

“First, my dear,” he said. “You must relax. You are in a very beautiful spa, and I promise I will take care of you.”

“Relax?” Marinette asked. “You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I am serious,” Fabio said as he picked up a bottle of some sort of oil and began massaging Marinette’s scalp.

She felt herself begin to relax despite herself, but she still had to make her protests known. “I know why I’m here, and you said you received Chloé’s instructions.”

“Mm,” he muttered as he worked. “I did. Tell me about yourself?”

“What? Why?”

Fabio paused and spun Marinette’s chair around, looking her in the eyes. His face was very serious for the first time since she had met him. “Do you know what people say about bartenders and stylists?”

“No,” Marinette admitted. “I don’t.”

“It is part of our jobs to know our clients. We listen. We understand. Often in the end, we understand the client better than they do themselves.”

He spun her back around and began working again. “I am a genius, so I am also genius at understanding my clients.”

“I still don’t understand,” Marinette said, finding it impossible to stay on edge as Fabio continued to work, switching to some sort of gel. The man’s hands were hypnotic.

“Chloé gave me very specific instructions.” Obviously feeling Marinette tense, he chuckled and continued. “Chloé will be mad but she will be happy, too, because I understand what Chloé wants. I do not follow instructions. I create masterpieces and I intend to give Chloé what she truly wants. ”

“Me looking like a stray dog chewed off parts of my hair?”

Fabio barked out a short laugh. “No,” he said. “I know Chloé well. I know her hopes and her dreams and her fears and her insecurities. Do not ask. I will not tell you. What you and I say will not leave this room. What I say to Chloé and what she says to me does not leave her room.”

He paused again asking, “You understand, yes?”

“Not really,” Marinette said, deciding to switch subjects. “So you know how awful she is to… everyone.” She almost said, “to me,” but admitting that Chloé’s animosity these days was reserved for Marinette pretty much exclusively was highly irritating.

He began working again. “I know many things,” he continued as if Marinette hadn’t spoken. “I know she has no mother. I know she barely sees her father. I know he sends her to a school where she knows no one, taking her away from a school where she had many friends.”

That honestly surprised Marinette. “I didn’t know that.”

“You are not the stylist,” Fabio said, distracted as he shuffled through some more product looking for something before returning. “But I am, and I know these things. I also know that he sends her to this new school because it looks good politically to have her in a public school. She knows this, too. I know he loves her but she is more valuable where she is now except when she acts as you say ‘awful.’

“I also know she loves her father, and I know she is desperate not to disappoint him.”

He paused again, spinning her to look her in the eyes. “I ask you to guess… how would you feel if your father took you from where you were happy and sent you to this new school for his gain?” He held a finger up before she could respond. “Remember, it is not Chloé’s father who sends you to this school. **Your** father. Tell me.”

He spun her again and waited on her answer.

“My papa would **never** do that,” she answered sharply.

“You think Chloé did not think the same as you?” he responded gently. “People surprise us. Good surprises. Bad surprises. Many surprises.”

Marinette had no answer for that.

“Now tell me about yourself,” Fabio said lightly. “First, tell me what is your passion? Then we will talk about dreams, I think.”

Deciding there was no harm in rolling with it, Marinette found herself opening up and answering as honestly as she could. It was nice really to have someone who seemed so genuinely interested.

After a few minutes, two attendants came in to begin her mani-pedi, and Fabio excused himself to work with Chloé.

By the time he returned, the attendants had done such a good job that Marinette felt it wasn’t physically possible to be any more relaxed than she was.

Fabio shooed the attendants who were now chatting happily with Marinette, and they began setting up a massage table and heated stones.

“It is now time to truly work,” he said and picked up the scissors. Strangely, Marinette felt no fear or dread. She trusted Fabio.

He began to cut as he asked more questions about Marinette’s life.

Finally, he stopped and said, “My assistant will wash your hair now, and then I will finish after your massage. I ask you do not touch your hair, though. You will do this for me?”

Marinette nodded. She was too far along in this process now to really back out.

“Good,” he replied. “I will go work with Chloé again. You will like the results, I think.”

“Why does it matter if I like it?” Marinette asked, confused.

“I believe in fairness in life,” he said with a laugh. “You are Chloé’s special project, and I think that it is fair that Chloé is your special project today.”

With those frankly odd and mysterious words, he breezed out of the room.

She didn’t have long to try and figure it out because the moment he was gone, his assistant moved her under the warm water and massaged her scalp in a way that made her mind turn off like a switch had been flipped. After that, Marinette was moved to the table, stones were placed on her back, and her full-body massage began. If there had been any chance of worrying about her new haircut, that ended when a set of strong, capable hands worked out knots Marinette had never realized she had.

Once she was put back in a sitting position in her chair, she noticed that someone had brought in a very familiar dress. It was a robin’s-egg blue sundress that was either a match for one Marinette owned, or else someone had raided her closet.

Fabio entered and noticed her staring at the dress through narrowed eyes. He chuckled and said, “Your very kind friend was good enough to do me a favor. I asked her to retrieve something pretty for you that brings out your eyes along with some nice shoes. You are pleased?”

“Um, sure?” Marinette responded. She could tell she still had a head full of hair, and she did feel relaxed and happy, but she was also really confused. This day was not going as expected. She idly wondered if Chloé felt the same way.

Fabio seemed done with the questions, but still spoke happily.

“We are almost finished,” he said. “Chloé is happily having a pedicure, and her hair is done very special for you.” 

“For me? I don’t get how her hair has anything to do with me,” Marinette frowned.

“Do not bend your face that way. We have done excellent work today. Respect it, please.”

“Okay,” Marinette acquiesced. This was fun, but it was still really strange.

“I ask that you trust me. The two of you will be pleased with the results.”

Deciding that arguing about it wouldn’t do any good, Marinette waited patiently until he was done. After he left, she was surprised the female assistant stayed to help her dress. She explained to Marinette that it was to make sure her hair wasn’t mussed up too badly.

Once she finished, Fabio came back in and touched up her hair, and then he held up a mirror for her to see.

She looked amazing. Her hair was much shorter than before. She had realized that was happening as he cut, but a bet was a bet, so she hadn’t complained. The results, though, were beyond anything she could have hoped for. Her hair was styled into a pixie cut, but left full at the crown, her slight natural waves transformed into a pile of curls. The bangs swept from left to right across her forehead, almost falling over her right eye, and the back of her hair was cropped close against her neck.

Feeling stunned, she was deposited back in the lobby.

Alya looked up, blinking and said, “Wow.”

No other response was necesssary. Marinette both looked and felt gorgeous. It struck her that Chloé certainly hadn’t asked for this haircut for her, but Fabio had insisted that this is what Chloé would want.

Why would Chloé want… 

Oh, Marinette thought as color rose in her face. It had to be a coincidence that Marinette looked like she was dolled up for a night on the town.

Before she could even start to ponder the implications, Chloé stepped out of the back. Her new cut was short, although not nearly as short as Marinette’s. It fell in loose golden waves to about two inches above her shoulders, and was parted on the right. The style framed her face perfectly and immediately drew the eyes of anyone looking at Chloé to her plump lips and clear blue eyes.

The shocking thing was she didn’t only see “Chloé the Bully” and she didn’t only see the Chloé that Fabio had described. She saw both somehow. She saw a beautiful, angry girl who pushed people away because it was the only way she know how to try to be brave. She saw a girl who stood alone to show the world she didn’t need anyone. She saw a girl that hated the thought of being abandoned so much that it hurt her deep in the core of her being.

There was the ugliness Marinette had known for years, and there was beauty and vulnerability and an aching need for closeness that might never be filled as a result of Chloé’s inability to trust.

And for the first time, Marinette imagined herself bridging that gap and finding a way to show Chloé she didn’t have to be alone. She saw clearly in her head dinners and dancing and dates. She saw Chloé happy and saw her sad and most of all she saw the blonde confident that she was needed and wanted.

Marinette wondered if she might be the person to make that a reality and the possibility made her giddy.

She felt herself blush. It was like Chloé’s haircut was designed especially to make Marinette feel she was seeing Chloé for the very first time but was also intimately familiar with her. Going by what Fabio had insisted, it meant the reverse was true, too, or at least that was supposed to be the effect.

Judging by the color rising in Chloé’s cheeks, Fabio was right. The blonde’s eyes were wide and startled, and she opened and closed her mouth several times as if she had words that suddenly escaped her when she tried to speak them aloud.

If anything, Chloé’s eyes went even wider when Marinette said, “You’re so beautiful it almost hurts.”

The words had honestly slipped out. She was thinking them, but she didn’t realize she was actually saying them until she saw Chloé’s reaction and heard Alya’s surprised laugh. It was probably for the best. If she tried to speak on purpose, she had a feeling she was going to start stuttering and word-switching as badly as she ever had with Adrien.

Seemingly by instinct, Chloé’s hand started to reach out towards Marinette before she caught herself and forced it back by her side. The blonde stepped forward slowly… warily… eyes fixed on Marinette’s.

“T-thank you,” Chloé managed to stammer out when she came to a stop mere inches away from Marinette.

“Yes, well…” Marinette mumbled.

Who knows how long the two would have stood there, unable to break away from each other’s gaze like they were in a game of chicken, if Alya hadn’t cleared her throat.

Both girls turned, blushing brighter than ever.

“So…” Alya said slowly with a smug, knowing look. “Why don’t you two go get a coffee and talk about… whatever.”

Chloé nodded, eyes cutting to Marinette before snapping back to Alya. “Yes. We should coffee. I mean coffee is a thing, that is... a beverage. Are we doing coffee things?” The blonde winced at her own words.

“Yes,” Marinette said simply, secretly pleased she had managed to accept without looking like an idiot. She probably could have lived without the giggle at the end, but sometimes life was about small victories.

Chloé turned to Marinette while twirling a lock of blonde hair in her fingers self-consciously, and in Marinette’s opinion very unfairly because who could resist that?

“So,” Chloé stuttered. “Y-yes coffee?”

“Yes,” Marinette said, jealous she couldn’t also twirl her hair around a finger to give Chloé a taste of her own medicine. “Yes. Coffee talks. Yes.”

So much for playing it smooth.

Chloé’s blush only deepened though. She reached out to take Marinette’s hand and pulled back, stammering out words that might be an apology for being so forward.

Marinette decided to be brave and took Chloé’s hand confidently.

“Alya,” she squeaked out, still with eyes only for the blonde. “I’ll catch up to you later?”

“Yeah,” Alya answered. “You two have fun.” She laughed again and left them holding hands, theoretically discussing where might be a good place to get coffee. 

At least, that’s what Marinette thought they were doing. She was far too distracted by Chloé’s new hairstyle and trying to make her own words make sense to really be sure.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m nervous about this one. Not sure why, but there it is.
> 
> Also still sick and it’s affecting my progress on my longer fiction. That may be playing into my nerves.
> 
> Has anyone figured out my secret Week 1 theme for Femslash February yet? :)


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